The Cell
by rosebud61
Summary: This story leaves off when Bryon visits Mark at the jail, in Mark's perspective. After Bryon leaves, Mark starts questioning their brotherhood and plotting...


The Cell

Bryon shook his head and left without another word. I was alone, with only my demons for company.

I paced back and forth in the cell, which was smaller than the bedroom Bryon and I once shared. Once upon a time, when we were brothers. A billion years ago. A time when dinosaurs still roamed, that's how long ago. I laughed at the thought. In fact, I howled with laughter. A guard stationed in the hall peered in through the heavily barred window on the door.

"A problem, Mr. Jennings?" He asked. "Why are you laughing? This is a prison, not clown school."

I just glared at him. That's what I had been doing a lot of lately. Glaring at people. Not answering questions. It drove the whole prison system insane. I picked at my prison uniform. It was frayed orange, with the words Oklahoma State Penitentiary embedded in numerous places. I plopped down on the soiled, dirty, unwashed bed, then got up again in an instant. I was a caged lion, restless and angry.

What if Bryon hadn't called the police on me? What if we were still brothers? Would I not be in this awful place then? Oh. I was sounding like Bryon again, with all the what ifs  
and questioning. I brushed those doubtful thoughts from my head.

There were no what ifs.

Bryon obviously wasn't my brother. A brother would never had called the cops on me. In the hallway, I heard hushed voices. The dinner crew was coming.

Another guard unlocked  
the door and pushed on it. It opened with a low, sickening creak. He was  
holding a beat-up steel tray. On it is a metal cup of water, a metal bowl of  
what looked like stew, and a piece of bread.

"Here's dinner, Jennings. Lights out in an hour. Don't miss nightly roll call again. That'll be your third strike, and then you'll be transferred to a higher security facility. And believe me, son, you don't want that to happen, that's for sure," He muttered, clanking the tray down on the bolted down table.

The stew sloshed and some of it dribbled down the side.

I said nothing. I had tried to bust out a few times, even got into a fight with the older criminals. But transfer me to a new facility? I contemplated this, poking at the stew. It was a thick consistency and had some unidentifiable lumps. I speared what seemed like a piece of meat and bit into it. It was dry and hard, like what my soul had become.

This was all Bryon's fault. If it wasn't for me sellin' a few harmless drugs, we would have starved to death. I wondered what Bryon was doing now. Probably reading a book and  
hanging out with that chick Cathy. I thought about what Bryon had told me when he visited. He had said he would get me a job and help me turn my life around. I chuckled again. Like Charlie always told him, Bryon lied like a dog. He had betrayed me. He had gotten me into this mess. And there was no getting out now. For the first time, it occurred to me that I was alone. I had no one to go to, no one to talk to, no one to love. It was a pleasantly disturbing thought. Now  
that I was all alone, I also didn't have to worry about disappointing anyone.

There was a fizzing crackle, and the lights clicked off. It must be curfew already, I thought, laughing again. Boy was I going insane here.

Bryon, Bryon, Bryon. Oh Bryon. I really do hate you.

I looked out the window.  
Like the one on the door, it was heavily barred. Through the metal, I caught a  
glimpse of the shining moon. It was a full, glowing, silver orb against the pitch-black sky. I reached out and pulled on the cold, metal bars. To my surprise, they wiggled.

I moved them back and forth a bit. With each tug, they loosened even more.

A wide smile crept up my face.

From the moment they locked me up I had wanted to escape. And now was my chance, a sliver of hope in my dreadful life.

I clenched the bars so hard my knuckles turned white.

Wait till you see,  
Bryon. Wait till I get out of here. Wait till you see what revenge I'll think of.


End file.
